Election day is coming, and I will be voting. I will be voting for the candidates that best represent “liberty and justice for all.” More specifically, I will be voting for the candidates whose views most closely reflect an understanding of and commitment to the United States Constitution. I will vote for bills that are permitted by the Constitution, and against any that are not — no matter how much benefit they may promise.

I believe that involvement in the political process is a citizen’s duty, and that Christians are called to be good citizens.

However, my hope is not in the outcome of any election. Whether the winners are the blatantly ant-Christian candidates, or their opponents, the moral pretenders and the occasional righteous man, my hope is in God alone, and his gospel.

I must confess equally boldly that my own solid hopes for the well-being of my country depend, not so much on her navies and armies, nor on the wisdom of her rulers, nor on the spirit of her people, as on the persuasion that she still contains many who love and obey the Gospel of Christ. I believe that their prayers may yet prevail.

—William Wilberforce

While today’s heretics insist that they are, like, so totally not whatever anyone says they are, and definitely not anything like the liberals (or anyone else) of the past, I keep seeing them pop up whenever I read the objections of dead theologians to the errors of their day. Consider these words from Horatius Bonar (1808–1889):

Some well-meaning theological literateurs, or rather amateur theologians, who patronize religion in their own way, are fain to warn us of the danger of not “keeping abreast of the age,” as if we were imperiling Christianity by not by not being quite so learned in modern speculations as they are. We should like, certainly, to keep abreast of all that is true and good, either in this age or any other; but as to doing more than that, or singling out this age as being pre-eminently worthy of being kept abreast of, we hesitate. To be “up to” all the errors, fallacies, speculations, fancies, mis-criticisms of the age, would be an achievement of no mean kind; to require us to be “up to” all this under threat of endangering Christianity, or betraying the Bible, is an exaction which could only be made by men who think that religion is much beholden to them for their condescending patronage; and will only be accepted by men who are timid about the stability of the cross of Christ if left unpropped by human wisdom; and who, besides, have three or four lifetimes to spare. We may be in a condition for believing, and even for defending the Bible, without having mastered the whole deistical literature of the last century, or the present. We may be qualified to accept the doctrine of sacrificial substitution even though we are not “up to” everything that has been spoken against it . . .
   In attempting to “keep abreast of the age,” there is some danger of falling short of other ages; and we are not sure but that the object of those who shake this phrase so complacently in our faces, both as a taunt and a threat, is to draw us off from the past altogether, as if the greater bulk of all its literature were rude lumber, a mere drag upon progress. . . . Old theological terms and Scripture phraseology are set aside . . . Sharp adhesion to old doctrines is imbecility; and yet defined expression of the new is avoided, the mind of the age being in a transition state, unable to bear the whole of what the exact and honest exhibition of “advanced” Christianity would require to utter. . . . They shrink from bold and definite statements of Reformation doctrine, lest they should be pronounced “not abreast of the age”—stereotyped, if not imbecile. Indefinite language, mystical utterances, negative or defective statements, which will save the speaker’s or writer’s orthodoxy without compromising his reputation for “intellect” and “liberality”—these are becoming common. . . .

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 31–32.

Sound familiar?

. . . it is evident that in proportion to our holiness will be the abundance of our peace. Not that we are to draw our peace from our holiness. That cannot be. Personal holiness can never be the foundation of our peace. But still in may be perfectly true that as our holiness increases our peace will deepen and grow more intense. The light of the body does not come from the eye, though it comes through the eye. It comes from the sun. The eye merely admits it. But if the eye be dim there will be less light admitted; and just as the eye becomes clearer more light will be let in. Yet still it is true that the light does not come from the eye but from the sun. So with holiness. In proportion as the soul becomes holy, in that proportion does it admit new peace, and in that proportion is it in a fitter condition for enjoying peace. A healthy body enjoys the beauties of the bright scenes of earth, more than a pained or sickly one, and just as it is healthy, so has it a capacity for the enjoyment of these things. Even so with the soul and holiness. While we utterly disclaim the Christ-dishonouring thought, that our holiness is the foundation of our peace, or forms any qualification on account of which peace is conferred upon us, it is yet true that just as we become holier men, we shall be the more abundantly filled with the peace of God that passeth all understanding.

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, ), 55–56..

America! America!
May God thy gold refine
’Til all success be nobleness
And every gain divine.

—Katherine Lee Bates, America the Beautiful

   Be much alone with God. Do not put Him off with a quarter of an hour morning and evening. Take time to get thoroughly acquainted. Converse over everything with Him. Unbosom yourself wholly—every thought, feeling, wish, plan, doubt—to Him. He wants to converse with His creatures; shall His creatures not want to converse with Him? He wants, not merely to be on “good terms” with you, if one may use man’s phrase, but to be intimate; shall you decline the intimacy, and be satisfied with mere acquaintance? What! Intimate with the world, with friends, with neighbors, with politicians, with philosophers, with naturalists, or with poets, but not with God! That would look ill indeed. Folly, to prefer the clay to the potter, the marble to the sculptor, this little earth and its lesser creatures to the mighty Maker of the universe, the great “All and in all!”

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 62–63

I reioyced, when they sayd to me, We wil go into the house of the Lord. (Psalme 122:1 Geneva Bible)

Law and Gospel
Samuel Davies (1723–1761)

ith conscious fear and humble awe,
I view the terrors of the law;
Condemned at that tremendous bar
I shrink, I tremble, and despair.

But hark, salvation in my ears,
Sounds sweetly and dispels my fears;
Jesus appears, and by His cross,
Fulfills His Father’s broken laws.

Jesus, Saviour! Dearest name!
By Him alone salvation came;
Terror, destruction, and despair,
Where e’er I look besides appear.

Adam, my head and father fell,
and sunk his offspring down to hell;
And the dread sword of justice waits,
To guard me from the heavenly gates.

Unnumbered crimes of dreadful names
Call loud for everlasting flames;
And all the duties I have done,
Can neither merit, nor atone.

Yet weak and guilty as I am,
I fix my trust in Jesus name.
Jesus, whose righteousness alone
Can for the deepest crimes atone.

On Him, my soul, on Him rely;
The terms are fixed—Believe or die.
Thee let the glorious gospel draw,
Or perish by the fiery law.

—from Worthy Is the Lamb (Soli Deo Gloria, 2004).

salme 102 (Geneva Bible)
A prayer of the afflicted, when he shall be in distresse, and pour forth his meditation before the Lord.
1 O Lord, heare my prayer, and let my crye come vnto thee.
2 Hide not thy face from me in the time of my trouble: incline thine eares vnto me: when I call, make haste to heare me.
3 For my dayes are consumed like smoke, and my bones are burnt like an herthe.
4 Mine heart is smitten and withereth like grasse, because I forgate to eate my bread.
5 For the voyce of my groning my bones doe cleaue to my skinne.
6 I am like a pelicane of the wildernesse: I am like an owle of the deserts.
7 I watch and am as a sparrowe alone vpon the house top.
8 Mine enemies reuile me dayly, and they that rage against me, haue sworne against me.
9 Surely I haue eaten asshes as bread, and mingled my drinke with weeping,
10 Because of thine indignation and thy wrath: for thou hast heaued me vp, and cast me downe.
11 My dayes are like a shadowe that fadeth, and I am withered like grasse.
12 But thou, O Lord, doest remaine for euer, and thy remembrance from generation to generation.
13 Thou wilt arise and haue mercy vpon Zion: for the time to haue mercie thereon, for the appointed time is come.
14 For thy seruants delite in the stones thereof, and haue pitie on the dust thereof.
15 Then the heathen shall feare the Name of the Lord, and all the Kings of the earth thy glory,
16 When the Lord shall build vp Zion, and shall appeare in his glory,
17 And shall turne vnto the prayer of the desolate, and not despise their prayer.
18 This shall be written for the generation to come: and the people, which shalbe created, shall prayse the Lord.
19 For he hath looked downe from the height of his Sanctuarie: out of the heauen did the Lord beholde the earth,
20 That he might heare the mourning of the prisoner, and deliuer the children of death:
21 That they may declare the Name of the Lord in Zion, and his prayse in Ierusalem,
22 When the people shalbe gathered together, and the kingdomes to serue the Lord.
23 He abated my strength in the way, and shortened my dayes.
24 And I sayd, O my God, take me not away in the middes of my dayes: thy yeeres endure from generation to generation.
25 Thou hast aforetime layde the foundation of the earth, and the heauens are the worke of thine hands.
26 They shall perish, but thou shalt endure: euen they all shall waxe olde as doeth a garment: as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed.
27 But thou art the same, and thy yeeres shall not fayle.
28 The children of thy seruants shall continue, and their seede shall stand fast in thy sight.

Grace be with you, and Peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

   Christian, dwell alone! Seek not the society of the world. Know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God? If you have any sympathies with the world—if it contains attractions for you—if God and the things of God are not enough for you—there is something wrong. Love not the world! Seek not its society. Seek the things above. Beware of the fascinations of company,the spells which gaiety throws over the young. Stand your ground. Be not whirled away into the tossing current of gay society on any pretext whatever.
   Church of the living God, be separate—dwell alone! That is your security, your strength, your influence. Let the world see that you are not of it; that you do not need it. And you will serve it best by dwelling alone. Not by coldness, sourness, distance; but by love, geniality, gentleness, patience, by all acts of benevolence and words of peace. These are things which are only to be found by “dwelling alone.”

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 83–84.

   There can be no grace where there is no sovereignty. Deny God’s right to choose whom he will and you deny his right to save whom he will. Deny his right to save whom he will, and you deny that salvation is of grace. If salvation is made to hinge upon any desert or fitness in man, seen or foreseen, grace is at an end. . . .
   Men may call these speculations. They may condemn them as unprofitable. To the law and to the testimony! Of such speculations, the Bible is full. There man is a helpless worm, and salvation from first to last, is of the Lord. God’s will, and not man’s, is the law of the universe. If we are to maintain the gospel—if we are to hold fast to grace—if we are to preserve Jehovah’s honor—we must grasp these truths with no feeble hand. For if there be no such being as a Supreme, pre-determining Jehovah, then the universe will soon be chaos: and if there be no such thing as free electing love, every minister of Christ may close his lips, and every sinner upon earth sit down in mute despair.

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 89.

   It is not by incarnation but by blood-shedding that we are saved. . . . If Christ be not the Substitute, He is nothing to the sinner. If He did not die as a Sin-bearer, He has died in vain. Let us not be deceived on this point, nor misled by those who, when they announce Christ as the Deliverer, think they have preached the gospel.
   If I throw a rope to a drowning man, I am a deliverer. But is Christ no more than that? . . . The very essence of Christ’s deliverance is the substitution of Himself for us, His life for ours. . . . He did not redeem us by a little loss, a little sacrifice, a little labour, a little suffering, “He redeemed us to God by His blood;” “the precious blood of Christ.”

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 111–113.

This item from CNN Monday almost set me off on a rant. I’ll stop with a very brief economics lesson.

ATLANTA, Georgia (CNN) -- One day while driving with her father, Hannah Salwen noticed a Mercedes stopped next to a homeless man sitting on the curb.

"I said to my dad, 'If that guy didn't have such a nice car, then that guy could have a nice meal,'" the 15-year-old from Atlanta, Georgia, recalled. (full article)

Here we have another reiteration of old socialist canard that if the rich were less rich, the poor would be less poor — which is complete nonsense. “That guy” #2 is not homeless because “that guy” #1 has a Mercedes. #1 has a Mercedes because he earns the money to buy it. #2 is homeless because he doesn’t earn anything, or at least enough to provide a home for himself. If #1’s earnings ceased entirely, #2’s earnings would remain the same.

If you really want to help the homeless man on the curb, help him to increase his earning potential. You know the old maxim: give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day; teach him to fish, and really annoy PETA (or something like that).

Quite some time ago I acquired several boxes of books from my mother when she sold the house in the country and moved to an apartment in town. Among those books was Introduction to New Testament Textual Criticism, by J. Harold Greenlee. Recognizing it as one of the books on The Master’s Seminary 850 Books for Biblical Expositors list, I put it in the stack of “keepers,” to be forgotten until just a few days ago when I was updating my LibraryThing library. I have been meaning to do some studying of the science of textual criticism for some time now and, having the book in hand, now seemed like the right time.

Everyone who studies the Bible will most likely ask, if there are no surviving original manuscripts, if every manuscript we have is a copy or a copy of a copy, how do we know the available manuscripts are reliable? This is undeniably a vital question. If the ancient texts we possess are not accurate, how can we know the Bible we have is really the Word of God?

In his introduction, Greenlee offers three basic reasons to trust the texts from which our Bibles are translated: the vast number of manuscripts available for comparison, the age of the surviving manuscripts, and the consistency of the surviving manuscripts.

[T]he number of available mss. of the N.T. is overwhelmingly greater than those of any other work of ancient literature. . . . The earliest extant mss. of the N.T. were written much closer to the date of the original writing than is the case in almost any other piece of ancient literature.
. . . The plays of Aeschylus are known in some fifty mss., the works of Sophocles in one hundred, the Greek Anthology and the Annals of Tacitus in one ms. each, the poems of Catullus in three hundred of independent value; while there are a few hundred known mss. of works of Euripides, Cicero, Ovid, and Virgil. In the case of the N.T., in sharp contrast, there are over 4000 extant mss. in Greek, 8000 in Latin, and 1000 in other languages. As regards the time interval between the extant mss. and the autograph, the oldest known mss. of most of the classical Greek authors are dated a thousand years or more after the author’s death. The time interval for the Latin authors is somewhat less, varying down to a minimum of three centuries in the case of Virgil. In the case of the N.T., however, two of the most important mss. Were written within 300 years after the N.T. was completed, and some virtually complete N.T. books as well as extensive fragmentary mss. of many parts of the N.T. date back to one century of the original writings.
   Since scholars accept as generally trustworthy the writings of the ancient classics, even though the earliest mss. were written so long after the original writings and the number of extant mss. is in many instances so small, it is clear that the reliability of the text of the N.T. is likewise assured.

   In the N.T. and in other ancient literature as well, there is no question concerning the reading of most of the words. Textual criticism needs to operate in only a limited portion of the text. . . . the main body of the text and its general sense are left untouched . . . textual criticism engages in turning a magnifying glass upon some of the details.

—J. Harold Greenlee, Introduction to New Testament Textual Criticism (Eerdmans, 1964), 15–17.

Sorry, this is the best I can do today.

What was the name of the horse in Jingle Bells?
Bob*.

This joke is funniest if you can imagine it being told by a small child — which is how I heard it.

I reioyced, when they sayd to me, We wil go into the house of the Lord. (Psalme 122:1 Geneva Bible)

LET US DRAW NEAR
Horatius Bonar (1808–1889)

WHY stand I lingering about,
In fear, and weariness, and doubt,
   When all is light within?
Thou, the new and living way,
The trembler’s Guide, the sinner's Stay,
   My High Priest, lead me in!

I know the mercy-seat is there,
On which thou sitt’st to answer prayer;
   I know the blood is shed;
The everlasting covenant sealed,
The everlasting grace revealed,
   And life has reached the dead!

Not the mere Paradise below;
The heaven of heavens is opened now,
   And we its bliss regain.
Guarded so long by fire and sword,
The gate stands wide, the way restored,
   The veil is rent in twain!

Without the cloud and gloom appear,
The peril and the storm are near,
   The foe is raging round;
Then let me boldly enter in,
There end my danger, fear, and sin,
   And rest on holy ground.

—Horatius Bonar, Hymns of Faith and Hope, First Series (James Nisbet & Co., 1878).

Psalme 109
(Geneva Bible)
To him that excelleth. A Psalme of David.

Grace be with you, and Peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

   It is truth that makes us free, for all error is bondage. If, then, you would be free men, grasp the truth tenaciously, bravely, calmly; bind it round you as a girdle, treasure it in your heart of hearts. “Buy the truth and sell it not;” that is, get it at any cost, part with it never. Error is sin, for which every man shall give an account to God; and sin is no mischance or misfortune that claims pity only, but not condemnation or punishment; else what means the fiery law? What means the cross of the sin-bearer? What means the great white throne? What means the everlasting fire? . . .
   Let neither your words nor your lives give any uncertain sound. Every man to whom the Bible comes is responsible for believing all the truth which the revelation proclaims, and for rejecting all the error which it condemns. Cleave, then, to the Word of the living God; and sit, as teachable disciples, at the feet of Him who has said, “Learn of me.”

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 109–110.

   There is a tendency among some to undervalue doctrine, to exact morality at the expense of theology, and to deny the importance of a sound creed. I do not doubt that a sound creed has often covered an unsound life, and that “much creed, little faith,” is true of multitudes. But when we hear it said, “Such a man is far gone in error, but his heart is in the right place; he disbelieves the substitution on the cross, but he rests on Christ Himself,” we wonder, and ask, “What then was the Bible written for?” it may be (if this be the case) a book of thought . . . , but it is no standard of truth, no infallible expression of the mind of an infallible being! The solemnity with which that book affirms the oneness of truth, and the awful severity with which it condemns every departure from the truth, as a direct attack on God Himself, shows us the danger of saying that a man’s heart may be in its right place though his head contains a creed of error.

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 115.

I have come to the conclusion that Horatius Bonar could never have written a book called A Generous Orthodoxy*.

Be discriminating. Do not call error truth for the sake of charity. Do not praise earnest men merely because they are earnest. To be earnest in truth is one thing; to be earnest in an error is another. The first is blessed, not so much because of the earnestness, but because of the truth; the second is hateful to God, and ought to be shunned by you. Remember how the Lord Jesus from heaven spoke concerning error: “which thing I hate” (Rev. 2:6–15; 1 Tim. 6:4, 5). True spiritual discernment is much lost sight of as a real Christian grace; discernment between the evil and the good, the false and the true. “Beloved, believe not every spirit; but try the spirits whether they are of God; because many false prophets are gone out into the world” (1 John 4:1). This “discernment,” which belongs to every one who is taught of God, is the very opposite of that which is called in our day by the boastful name of “liberality.” Spiritual discernment and “liberal thought” have little in common with each other. “Abhor that which is evil, cleave to that which is good” (Rom. 12:9). The “liberality which puts bitter for sweet. And sweet for bitter” (Isa. 5:20), is a very different thing from the “charity which thinketh no evil” (1 Cor. 13:5).
   Truth is a mighty thing in the eyes of God, whatever it may be in those of men. All error is, more or less, whether directly or indirectly,. A misrepresentation of God’s character, and a subversion of his relation (Rev. 22:18, 19).

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 123–124.

More evidence from the pen of Horatius Bonar that there is nothing new under the sun:

The religious atmosphere of the present time is much changed from what it was in my younger days . . .
. . . Man is now thinking out a Bible for himself; framing a religion in harmony with the development of liberal thought; constructing a worship on the principles of taste and culture; shaping a god to suit the expanding aspirations of the age. The process of evolution on all these points is so satisfactory and so well advanced that disguise is no longer needful. Faith and certainty, in things outside our senses, are, in the meantime at least, not to be taken into account. . . .
   Amid all this dazzling confusion, it is well to keep in mind that the way leading to life is narrow, the way leading to death is broad. The danger arising from want of spiritual discrimination is more serious than many think. For one authentic light there are a thousand spurious ones. The false christs are many, the true Christ is but one; and whilst glorying in the vitality of truth we must stand in awe of the marvelous fecundity of error. Discrimination is not censorious.

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 125–126.

Pardon the provocative title. Today I’m just scribbling out a few thoughts on a word that has become increasingly annoying to me: “values.”

“Values” has been a very fashionable word to describe what people believe for several years now. It has probably been most commonly used in conjunction with the word “family,” as in “family values.” A politician’s stated commitment to family values is almost sure to buy him votes, even if he himself is a divorced adulterer. Some churches have replaced statements of faith with lists of “core values.” I’m not sure what motivates that thinking — probably just a desire for softer, less confrontational and demanding language — but I’m not impressed.

I’m not interested in your values. Values are the things that are important — valuable — to you. Values are subjective. Values are not moral imperatives. Your values may be different from my values. My values include things like wool sweaters, real butter, and Smyth sewn bindings. These are good things, and I’m willing to explain to anyone who will listen why they are superior to their alternatives. However, as good as my arguments might be, they would carry no moral authority, not because they wouldn’t be right, but because I would be explaining why those things are important to me, and why I think they should be important to you.

I’m not interested in values; I’m interested in doctrines, and the morals that are the product of doctrines.

Morals are in an entirely different category than values. Morals are derived from authoritative commands. They are objective, and binding whether I value them or not. I might value life, and you might not; but God commands both of us to not commit murder. You might value sexual purity, and I might not; but God commands both of us to refrain from adultery. To live according to values makes me my own authority. Submitting to God’s moral commands acknowledges God as the supreme authority.

More important than morals are the doctrines behind them. To have values rather than morals is weak enough; to speak of values as a substitute for doctrines is to entirely emasculate your faith. Genuine faith and true religion is based not upon values, but upon doctrine — and not just any doctrine, but sound doctrine.

Please — if you value God, if you value objective truth — do away with “values.”

Louisville, Kentucky; April, 2008. Albert Mohler has just concluded his lecture at the 2008 Together for the Gospel Conference. I make my way to the front of the auditorium, clutching my copy of Dr. Mohler’s new book, Culture Shift, hoping to get it signed by the man himself. If successful, this will be the second signature I have acquired, the first being that of John MacArthur on the new 25th anniversary edition of The Gospel According to Jesus. I feel confident — not in my chances of getting the coveted signature, but of something far more important: not saying something stupid in the few seconds I will have in his presence. I managed to maintain my dignity with my Favorite Living Theologian, Dr. MacArthur, even making a couple of intelligent comments; surely I can manage it with Mohler, as well.

I wait behind the ropey-thing that separates the celebrities from the groupies while Dr. Mohler converses with a young seminary student (I know he is a seminarian because he has that broke-but-trying-very-hard-to-look-scholarly appearance). He approaches, pausing momentarily to jot a note on a scrap of paper and hand it to one of his minions. Suddenly, it strikes me: he has more brains in that fancy fountain pen than I have in my whole body. Like a child ducking behind his mother’s skirt, my brain sneaks away. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I silently hold out my book, only vaguely aware of how stupidly mute I am. Dr. Mohler looks at me expectantly; I say nothing. He takes the book, signs it and hands it back. Finally, my tongue breaks loose.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he replies, and moves on.

Back at my seat, I open the book. It is signed, “To David.” I spend the remainder of the day, name tag hanging around my neck, wondering how he knew my name.

This could be me.

I reioyced, when they sayd to me, We wil go into the house of the Lord. (Psalme 122:1 Geneva Bible)

CHRISTIAN CALLING

O Lord God,

he first act of calling is by thy command
in thy Word,
   ‘Come unto me, return unto me’;
The second is to let in light
   so that I see that I am called particularly,
   and percieve the sweetness of thy command
      as well as its truth,
   in regard to thy great love of the sinner
   by inviting him to come, though vile,
   in regard to the end of the command,
      which is fellowship with thee, in regard to thy
   promise in the gospel,
   which is all of grace.
Therefore, Lord,
   I need not search to see if I am elect, or loved
   for if I turn, thou wilt come to me;
   Christ has promised me fellowship if I take him,
   and the Spirit will pour himself out on me,
      abolishing sin and punishment,
      assuring me of strength to persevere.
It is thy pleasure to help all that pray for grace,
   and come to thee for it.
When my heart is unsavoury with sin, sorrow,
   darkness, hell,
   only thy free grace can help me act
   with deep abasement under a sense
      of unworthiness
Let me lament for fogetting daily to come to thee,
   and cleanse me from the deceit of of bringing
      my heart to a duty
   because the act pleased or appealed to reason.
Grant that I may be salted with suffering,
   with every exactment tempered to my soul,
   every rod excellently fitted to my back,
      to chastise, humble, break me.
Let me not overlook the hand that holds the rod,
   as thou didst not let me forget the rod that fell
      on Christ
      and drew me to him.

—from The Valley of Vision, Arthur Bennett, editor (Banner of Truth Trust, 2002).

salme 116
(Geneva Bible)

1 I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voyce and my prayers.
2 For he hath inclined his eare vnto me, whe I did call vpon him in my dayes.
3 When the snares of death copassed me, and the griefes of the graue caught me: when I founde trouble and sorowe.
4 Then I called vpon the Name of the Lord, saying, I beseech thee, O Lord, deliuer my soule.
5 The Lord is mercifull and righteous, and our God is full of compassion.
6 The Lord preserueth the simple: I was in miserie and he saued me.
7 Returne vnto thy rest, O my soule: for the Lord hath bene beneficiall vnto thee,
8 Because thou hast deliuered my soule from death, mine eyes from teares, and my feete from falling.
9 I shall walke before the Lord in the lande of the liuing.
10 I beleeued, therefore did I speake: for I was sore troubled.
11 I said in my feare, All men are lyers.
12 What shall I render vnto the Lord for all his benefites toward me?
13 I will take the cup of saluation, and call vpon the Name of the Lord.
14 I will pay my vowes vnto the Lord, euen nowe in the presence of all his people.
15 Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his Saintes.
16 Beholde, Lord: for I am thy seruant, I am thy seruant, and the sonne of thine handmaide: thou hast broken my bondes.
17 I will offer to thee a sacrifice of prayse, and will call vpon the Name of the Lord.
18 I will pay my vowes vnto the Lord, euen nowe in the presence of all his people,
19 In the courtes of ye Lords house, euen in the middes of thee, O Ierusalem. Praise ye the Lord.

Grace be with you, and Peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

A while ago, after watching a movie on DVD, probably due to some masochistic impulse, I watched the “special features” on the disc. You know, the usually incredibly boring “making of” segments and interviews with the director, cast, and sundry crew. As I watched, it struck me how important some of these entertainers thought their work was. Words like “innovative” and “ground-breaking,” describing various aspects of their latest product, abounded. It was evident that they were really quite impressed with themselves. I found myself scoffing at them: Come, on, people, it’s just a movie! Maybe a good movie, or even a great one, but still, just a movie. How important can it be?

To put it into perspective, let’s consider some numbers. Just last weekend, The Dark Knight opened, breaking the previous record for opening weekend ticket sales (Spiderman 3, 2007) and grossing $155.34 million. Well, that’s pretty impressive, I suppose. But how impressive, in the big picture, is it really? According to the National Association of Theatre Owners, the average 2007 ticket price was $6.88. Using that number, I estimate that 2.5 million people watched The Dark Knight opening weekend. That’s a lot of people, nearly four times the population of North Dakota — but only 7.5% of the entire U.S. population. That’s not so big, after all.

Now, I don’t know how many more will see the movie in coming weeks. Seriously, who cares? Twenty years from now, will it matter? Ten years? Five? Who will remember? The next blockbuster will come and go, and Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, et al, will eventually be forgotten; and the stars of the latest big show will think that they, too, have made a profound contribution to . . . whatever it is they think they’re doing.

So, what’s my point? I’m not sure; there are probably several that could be made. In any case, I have growing impression that I ought to go read Ecclesiastes.

These words by Horatius Bonar, though written around one hundred and fifty years ago, have never been more true than they are today. While those who would call themselves “the church” today are always looking for something fresh and innovative, they continually fall back on the same errors that have been common in ages past. The good news, then, is that we need no fresh answers. The saints who have gone before us and, indeed, Scripture itself, have said all that needs to be said.

Christianity, say many among us, is a life, not a dogma; and they reckon this the enunciation of a great and unappreciated truth. It is, however, a mere truism, or it is an unmeaning antithesis, or it is an absolute falsehood. It sounds oracular and great; it is only pompous.
   Christianity is both life and dogma; quite as much one as the other.
   But it is a dogma before it is life; it cannot be the latter till it has been the former. It is out of the dogma that the life emerges; not the dogma out of the life; and the importance that is attached in Scripture to knowledge—right knowledge—should make us cautious in disparaging doctrine, as if it were harmless when wrong, and impotent or uninfluential when right. The mystics of different ages have tried hard to depreciate doctrine, to praise what they call “the spirit” at the expense of “the letter”; And it is somewhat remarkable that infidelity has generally taken their side . . .
. . . doctrine in general, at least if precise and defined, is inconsistent with liberty of thought and expansion of intellect. “Life” is a pliable thing; it is unfenced and common; it may mean anything a man likes to call it or to fancy it; there is no imperiling of human liberty in calling Christianity a life; the men of “progress” and “freshness” are safe in making their standard; for Christianity = life may mean just Christianity = 0; at least it is an equation capable of being manipulated as to bring out any result which the theological algebraist may desire.
   And then there is the advantage of having a popular and high-sounding watchword. “Christianity a life, not a dogma” sounds noble. . . . it is an axiom rather than a proposition. It takes largely; it convinces hundreds without further inquiry or argument . . . it would enable us to believe anyone to be pious—Moslem, Hindoo, Romanist, Pantheist, or Sceptic—who could produce a worthy and earnest life.
. . . Religion without creed, religion without truth, religion without the Bible, religion without Christianity, religion without Christ—is set down now, not simply among things possible, but amongst things desirable. . . . “Unconditioned” religion is to be accepted as not inconsistent with philosophy or liberty, but conditioned or defined religion is to be regarded as imbecility.

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 145–146.

This one true goal or resting-place where doubt and weariness, the stings of a pricking conscience, and the longings of an unsatisfied soul would all be quieted, is Christ Himself. Not the church, but Christ. Not doctrine, but Christ. Not forms, but Christ. Not ceremonies, but Christ. Christ the God-man, giving his life for ours; sealing the everlasting covenant, and making peace for us through the blood of His cross; Christ the divine storehouse of all light and truth, “in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” [Col 2:3]; Christ the infinite vessel, filled with the Holy Spirit, the enlightener, the teacher, the quickened, the comforter, so that “out of his fullness we may receive, and grace for grace” [John 1:16]. This, this alone is the vexed soul’s refuge, its rock to build on, its home to abide in till the great temper be bound and every conflict ended in victory.

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 171.

Sinclair Ferguson on the atonement:

Atonement was impossible without an incarnation. Hebrews explains why the Son of God “had to be made like his brothers in every way.” It is so “that he might make atonement for the sins of the people” (Heb. 2:17, NIV).
   Our salvation requires not only the conquest of our enemy, Satan, but the removal of a yet more terrifying enmity: the wrath of the holy God of heaven. “Purification” and “atonement” must be made “for the sins of the people” (Heb. 1:3; 2:17, NIV).
   This was made clear to the people of God in the Old Testament by the constantly repeated ritual sacrifices they were required to make. They thus learned that they deserved death because of their sins; but they also were taught that in grace God Himself provided a sacrifice to take their place.
   However, even an Old Testament believer could see that the animal sacrifices couldnot in themselves make adequate atonement (Heb. 10:11). Otherwise there would have been no need for them to be repeated. The flesh and blood of bulls and goats could not atone for the sins of human flesh and blood (Heb. 10:4)! Only human flesh and blood could be an appropriate substitute-sacrifice. So the author of Hebrews says:

When [Christ] came into the world, He said:
“. . . a body you have prepared for me.
In burnt offerings and sacrifices for sin
You had no pleasure.
Then I said, ‘Behold, I have come—
In the volume of the book it is written—
To do your will, O God.’”

—Hebrews 10:5–7

   Jesus offered Himself as the substitutionary atonement!
   Sometimes theologians have spoken misleadingly, as though the incarnation is itself the atonement (the “at-one-ment” of God and man in Christ). It is not. But without it there could be no atonement. He took our nature in order to bear our punishment. Only thus can we be at peace with God.

—Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 26–27.

Learn self-denying Christianity. Not the form or name, but the living thing. “Even Christ pleased not himself” [Romans 5:3]. Let us in this respect be His true followers; bearing burdens for Him; doing work for Him; not grudging effort, or cost, or sacrifice, or pain; spending and being spent for Him; abjuring the lazy, luxurious, self-pleasing, fashionable religion of the present day.
   A self-indulgent religion has nothing to do with the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ; or of that cross of ours which He has commanded us to take up and carry after him, renouncing ease and denying self. Our time, our gifts, our money, our strength, are all to be laid upon the altar. We are to be “living sacrifices” (Romans 12:1).

—Horatius Bonar, Christ Is All, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin & Darrin R. Brooker (Reformation Heritage Books, 2007), 197.

Wayne Grudem is smart. He agrees with me on Bible translations.

   All the words of Scripture are breathed out by God for purposes only he fully understood. He put the words there so that we could use them to probe deeper into the meaning of Scripture and even to construct arguments or to answer arguments yet to be invented in the future. But some of these words of God are simply deleted from dynamic equivalence translations. Unless our theory of translation seeks to translate all the words (in some way or another), we will leave out things that we don’t know we are leaving out, and we will leave out part of the meaning of Scripture.
   Are only some words of Scripture breathed out by God?

—Wayne Grudem, Translating Truth: The Case for Essentially Literal Bible Translation (Crossway, 2005), 32–33.

I reioyced, when they sayd to me, We wil go into the house of the Lord. (Psalme 122:1 Geneva Bible)

HYMN 21. (C. M.)
A vision of the kingdom of Christ among men. Rev. xxi. 1–4.
Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

LO! what a glorious sight appears
   To our believing eyes!
The earth and sea are passed away,
   And the old rolling skies.

From the third heav’n, where God resides,
   That holy, happy place,
The new Jerusalem comes down,
   Adorned with shining grace.

Attending angels shout for joy,
   And the bright armies sing—
“Mortals, behold the sacred seat
   Of your descending King.

“The God of glory down to men
   Removes his blest abode;
Men, the dear objects of his grace,
   And he the loving God.

“His own soft hand shall wipe the tears
   From every weeping eye,
And pains, and groans, and griefs, and fears,
   And death itself, shall die.”

How long, dear Savior! O how long
   Shall this bright hour delay?
Fly swifter round, ye wheels of time,
   And bring the welcome day.

—from The Psalms & Hymns of Isaac Watts. Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book I: Collected from the Holy Scriptures (Soli Deo Gloria, 1997).

Psalme 123
Geneva Bible.
A song of degrees.
1 I lift vp mine eyes to thee, that dwellest in the heauens.
2 Behold, as the eyes of seruants looke vnto the hand of their masters, and as the eyes of a mayden vnto the hand of her mistres: so our eyes waite vpon the Lord our God vntil he haue mercie vpon vs.
3 Haue mercie vpon vs, O Lord, haue mercie vpon vs: for we haue suffered too much contempt.
4 Our soule is filled too full of ye mocking of the wealthy, and of the despitefulnes of the proude.

Grace be with you, and Peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

Last week, I watched the movie The Green Mile again. I’m not one to use movies to teach, but in the case of this film I believe there is something that we would do well to take note of and learn. In addition to being a compelling story, The Green Mile presents theology, as most of the world understands it, in stark terms.

For those who have not read the book or seen the movie, The Green Mile is the story of Paul Edgecomb, played by Tom Hanks, the man in charge of Death Row at a state prison during the 1930s. I won’t spoil it by giving the plot, which does not matter for our purposes. I will just share a couple of scenes that are pertinent to my point.

In the first scene, a prisoner, Arlen Bitterbuck, has just had the top of his head shaved in preparation for execution in the electric chair. Edgecomb is sitting with him in his cell, and Bitterbuck asks, “Do you think, if a man sincerely repents on what he done wrong, that he might get to go back to the time that was happiest for him, and live there forever? Could that be what Heaven’s like?” Edgecomb replies, “I just about believe that very thing.”

In the second scene, Edgecomb is faced with executing a man he believes to be innocent. Speaking with his wife, he tells her, “To tell you the truth, Honey, I’ve done some things in my life that I am not proud of. This is the first time I’ve ever felt real danger of Hell.”

Aside from the faulty view of Heaven, there is a fallacy presented in these two scenes that represents the world’s view of damnation: men are damned for committing wicked deeds. If Arlen Bitterbuck had not committed the crime that landed him on death row, his soul would be safe. If Paul Edgecomb can find a way around executing a man he believes is innocent, he will have nothing to fear. Implicitly, these two men were on the road to Heaven until they reached a certain fork in the road. The first took the wrong turn, and is now looking for a way back. The second is at the fork, and has little choice but to take the wrong turn. Both fear that their souls are in jeopardy because of what they have done or are about to do.

Sadly, this is how most of the world, at least those who believe in life after death, see it. But what does Scripture say?

Scripture says we’re not damned for what we have done, but for what we have not done. Regardless of who we are, or what evil we have avoided, we have failed to live up to God’s perfect standard. Lest we think “perfect” is an exaggeration, that maybe our best is good enough, Romans 3:23 assures us, “For all have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God.” All have fallen short. Every one of us has failed. We have fallen short, we have failed to measure up, and not to just any standard that we or any other mortal can set or even conceive. We have failed to measure up to the glory of God.

Before any death row inmate committed his crime, he was in as much need of salvation as after. After he committed his crime, he was no more in danger of Hell than before. The most kind, gentle, generous, moral person is lost and utterly without hope if he is trusting in his own goodness to save him. Both the convicted murderer and the good husband, father, and corrections officer stand on level ground before God, both in need of grace.

In your communications with unbelievers, when the opportunity arises, are you bringing that message? Or do you come across as a moralist? Are you encouraging your wicked acquaintances to change their evil ways, while the righteous whitewashed sepulchres get a pass? Are you assuming the overtly sinful are more in need of salvation than the nice family man who goes to church and coaches Little League? Are you leading the outwardly unrighteous to believe that they need to change their ways to gain God's favor, while lulling the inwardly unrighteous to believe they have it? If so, you are bringing a false gospel.

Are you a good person, doing your best, who imagines that your best is good enough to get you into Heaven? Forget it. God requires absolute perfection. Can you deliver? I can’t. I have sinned. Worse than that, I am sinful. I am sinful to the very core of my being. I can no more change that than a leopard can change his spots. I am by nature a rebel against God, and God's justice requires a penalty. That penalty is death (Romans 6:23).

Well, someone did die. God sent his son, Jesus Christ, to be born a man and live a perfect life so he could be the perfect sacrifice in your place and mine. He bore the full wrath of God against the sin of all who believe in him when he was crucified. He paid the death I owed. He won the victory over sin and death when, three days later, he rose from the dead. And his righteousness, his sinless perfection, is credited to all who trust in him. Clothed in Christ’s righteousness, we can stand before God spotless and without blemish. That righteousness is required of all men, from the Sunday School teacher to the murderer on death row; and it is available to both, without distinction.

Sinclair Ferguson on the priesthood of Christ:

[O]n the Day of Atonement, Aaron slew a sacrifice, entered the Holy of Holies with the blood, and poured it out on the mercy seat between the cherubim (Lev. 16:15–16).
   This ritual was an acted parable, a copy of what Christ was to do on the great day when He made atonement. The blood of animals is both inappropriate and inadequate to provide the cleansing necessary to approach God. Animal sacrifice could not atone for human sin. Neither could any finite individual atone for sin against the infinite God. Only the blood of the divine image incarnate could cleanse our sin and enable us to enter safely into the presence of God, who is a consuming fire (Heb. 1:3; 12:29).
   The work of atonement took place in the presence of the God of heaven. Indeed, it involved a transaction within the fellowship of the persons of the eternal Trinity in their love for us; the Son was willing, with the aid of the Spirit, to experience the hiding of the Father’s face. The shedding of the blood of God’s Son opened the way to God for us (Acts 20:28). That is both the horror and the glory of our Great High Priest’s ministry.

—Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 54–55.

This is not Myspace. I just wanted to get that cleared up right away, as I’m going to do something I seldom do: ramble about my exceedingly mundane life.

I got up yesterday, came to my office, and posted to the blog at 7:26 AM, according to the time on the post. Then, cup of coffee at hand, I did my Bible reading. I’m reading Romans this month. It takes a little less than an hour every day to read it through.

Then I went to the dentist. I don’t really mind going to the dentist. Pain doesn’t bother me much; if I can survive the initial shot of Novocain, I’m alright. The real pain comes through speakers in the ceiling. Forty-five minutes of Lionel Ritchie is a lot to endure. “Hello — is it me you’re looking for?” No, Lionel, it’s not; now shut up. I hate morning appointments. They really mess up my day; it’s hard to get going on anything in the afternoon if I don’t get a good start in the morning.

I decided to spend the afternoon fiddling around with some small projects, some important, most not. I needed to wash Lionel out of my ears, so I started up Musicmatch Jukebox. I’ve become a big fan of audio Bibles, and have several translations, so I put up a playlist of — what else? — Romans. It’s the book of Romans in six different translations, interspersed with music. It’s twelve hours long, so, because of the late start, I didn’t get through it all yesterday. In case you care, and I haven’t bored you to death already, it goes like this:

• Romans, 1599 Geneva
• Celtic Hymns
• Romans, KJV
• Christopher Parkening, Simple Gifts
• Romans, NKJV
• Christopher Parkening, Grace Like a River
• Romans, ASV
• Paul S. Jones & the Westminster Brass, Praise God in His Sanctuary
• Romans, NASB
• Paul S. Jones, Impromptu: Meditative Hymn Improvisations
• Romans, ESV
• Handel, Messiah

My wife made some really good beer-battered fish (now that I think of it, I didn’t even ask what kind of fish) for supper. Later, before going to bed, we watched an episode of The Twilight Zone.

Now, wasn’t that just fascinating?

Sinclair Ferguson on monergism:

With one command, “Lazarus, come forth!” (John 11:43) [Jesus] raised His dead friend.
   It is fascinating to notice that our Lord accomplished this by two means: prayer and His word (vv. 41–43). He is the Ezekiel-like prophet who speaks both to the bones and the spirits of those who have fallen prey to the curse of sin. He brings new life to the dead. What the prophets of God did spiritually, the Prophet of God did quite literally and physically.
   The emphasis on prayer should not go unnoticed—the apostles certainly grasped it (Acts 6:4). In addition, a pattern is illustrated that is characteristic of Christ’s ongoing activity as the giver of new life: resurrection comes by this new life (James 1:18; 1 Peter 1:23).
   Question: Surely the instrumentality of the Word (to which we actively respond) implies an activity on our part? Do we not, in this sense, contribute something to being born again?
   Answer: No more than Jesus’s command implies that Lazarus contributes life energy to his own resurrection. Lazarus comes out of the tomb because Jesus raises him from the dead, not in order that he might be raised from the dead. In him, our Lord’s words are fulfilled: “Most assuredly I say to you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God; and those who hear will live” (John 5:25). When prayer to the father and the word of command to the dead come from the lips of Jesus, His voice opens deaf ears and raises the dead.
   What was true then remains so now (which is why we join prayer and preaching), and will continue to be at the last, when by his powerful command Christ once again will raise the dead (1 Thess. 4:16). In undiluted Monergism, He called the galaxies into being, and He gives life to the dead in the same way (Rom. 4:17).

—Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 70–71.